Bitemarks
by TheBlueVampireQueenofAbiland
Summary: Dib's a vampire hunter on the trail of the most elusive foe he's ever faced, a vampire by the name of Zim. All he wants to do is stake him and get it done with, but things never go as planned for these two, do they? Vampire!Zim, Vampire hunter!Dib. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**BVQA:** This is a reposting of a section of _Multiverse_, which is a birthday fanfic for ZADRgir55. To spare you the details, I love vampires. I love them so much that I think every fandom deserves an excellent vampire AU. I don't mean a story where the characters get bitten and turned, I mean a story that takes place in a completely different universe.

A warning: this is, in fact, ZADR. I don't ship it, ZADRgir55 does, hence the name, and therefore I wrote some anyway. For non-shippers who're here because they like vampires, I can only say that if a non-shipper wrote it, a non-shipper can read it.

* * *

Dib's breathing was heavy as he slowly peeked around the doorframe. Nothing. The room on the other side was devoid of life, the few pieces of furniture covered with sheets that had long since been turned gray with dust. It looked as if the room hadn't been disturbed in a long, long time. Fine by him. Dib took a deep breath, calmed himself down, and quietly padded through the doorway. The many silver buckles on his nearly-floor-length black trench coat made tiny clinking noises as he walked, mirroring the belts wrapped around the tops of his boots. Black cargo pants and five or six black leather belts reached over his midriff and nearly covered his blue t-shirt, leaving only the eyes of the face printed across his chest to peak out timidly. To be honest, he was scared as heck too. . . but the fact that every single buckle or belt he wore also held a holster or sheathe for _some_ sort of weapon boosted his courage considerably.

_Think, Dib. You know he's in here. The only question is, _where? _This room doesn't show any signs of disturbance at all. . ._

Dib shut his eyes briefly, tilting his head to one side and listening intently. Futile, he knew, but maybe he'd pick up on something, _anything_. He was a vampire slayer, for God's sake. He was supposed to have ridiculously enhanced senses, so he could track down the freaking parasites and do his job, but _no_. Instead he was stuck doing things the hard way, and the only thing he could hear was the old mansion creaking as it was battered by the wind.

At least, Dib _thought_ it was because of the wind. He couldn't be sure though. What if those rhythmic creaks were actually bare feet padding over old wooden floorboards. . ? Dib quickly slipped further into the room, his heart picking up its pace, and turned to he could see both doors to the room. This way, if anyone was coming Dib would know immediately.

_Don't say 'anyone', you _know_ who it'll be._

Dib pursed his lips and popped the catch on one of the holsters slung around his waist, the one that contained the silver-tipped stake, readying himself for a quick draw if necessary. Just a precaution. He certainly wasn't scared of the sound of an old house creaking in the wind, even if he _was_ after the oldest and most dangerous vampire he'd ever come across. No worries there. All Dib had to do was _find _him. He'd managed to track the vampire across continents, he could definitely search the single mansion he'd narrowed it down to.

Dib bit his lower lip as it dawned on him that maybe the vampire had escaped through the woods when Dib entered the house, then shook the thought off. He'd spent a lot of time profiling this one, and it would never run from a fight, even one it had no chance of winning.

_Alright, I've checked every room in the house, and the vampire isn't here. Only it has to be. Think, stupid! What do I know about vampires?_

They were crafty, first of all. Smart, clever, and good at manipulating people. He'd learned that much over a year ago, back when he'd just started tracking his current target. A girl named Tak had joined him in hunting down vampires, had gotten him in the same room with the vampire he was currently after. . . and was then revealed to be a vampire herself, trying to get some revenge on an old enemy. It was hard for Dib to get over that, the false friendship that was one of the first real person-to-person relationships he'd ever had, but when the night was over he'd walked away with Tak's blood on his hands and one less vampire to worry about.

Now he just had to slay the other one who'd been there that day.

Dib sighed, reattached the cover on his stake, and turned to leave the room. He'd do another sweep of the rooms, then figure out a plan from there. Dib hesitated at the doorway, glancing at his boots to make sure he didn't trip over the frame, and froze. His heart picked up the pace again, fighting against his ribcage. He'd been looking around the house, at the furniture, the walls, the ceilings, but not where he should have been looking. The sheets covering the furniture had been gray with dust, undisturbed, so why. . .

. . .why weren't his boots covered in dust as well?

"I take it by how fast your heart's skipping you just noticed why there aren't any footprints. Took you long enough."

Dib spun around at the sound of the young voice, frantically scanning the room. He knew that voice. He knew that strange, unplaceable accent. Where had it come from? He fumbled for his stake, groping blindly, but someone caught at his wrist. Someone with cold hands.

"You're. . . right behind me, aren't you," Dib said quietly, fear and annoyance taking equal turns in his tone.

"Maaaybe. . ." The word was breathed in Dib's ear, just above his throat, and he jerked away instinctively. The teen behind him didn't relinquish his grip on Dib's wrist and they wound up standing at arms length from each other, eyes locked and holding.

The vampire was wearing a confident, smug expression on his overly pale features, mismatched eyes slanted up at Dib. One eye was a beautiful emerald green and the other a dark red, like crushed rubies or maybe dried blood. His black hair had a shock of green dye running through it, a new development since Dib had last seen him, but the way it was cut was much the same- loose, long, and hanging in his eyes. He wouldn't stand out much in a goth club, or maybe in Emos R Us, since his current outfit was all chains, crosses, ripped black skinny jeans, combat boots laced to his knees, a t-shirt with a skull, and three hoops through his left ear. Vampires were rumored to be inhumanly attractive. Dib could definitely confirm that.

"Hi, Zim," Dib whispered. The other teen smirked, flashing a pair of fangs like pearly razors, and dropped his wrist. Dib wasted no time putting distance between them, but he realized the effort was basically useless since he was backing into a closed-off space anyway.

"Hi, Mr. Paranormal Investigator. Or are you going by 'vampire slayer' now? You never were too good with the research, just wanted to get your hands into another species' guts. . ."

Dib scowled. "That's not _true!_" He snapped, but Zim just shook his head.

"Stupid, stupid hyuman. . ." he mused. His accent came in heavy on the word 'human', one of his strange little quirks. Certainly made him easy to find, though.

"I'm not the one who got tracked down by a teenager," Dib slowly reached for his stake, trying to sneak the movement past Zim by hiding it behind words. No such luck. The next instant, Dib was slamming against the wall, wrists caught and held by Zim's hands. He could hear his stake clattering to the ground.

"_Don't. Even._ _Think_ about it, Dib-filth," Zim hissed in his ear. Dib struggled to keep his breathing even, the backs of his hands and his shoulders stinging from colliding with the wall. Zim was usually like this- cool, calm and charming one minute, and the next charged with anger and violent impulses. Crazy? Yes. Whatever training new vampires had to go through had left Zim with only half his sanity intact, and barely that at times. That was why Dib was currently panicking. Zim could be planning anything from murder to a tea party at this point, and Dib couldn't do a thing about it. In every scenario of this meeting he'd envisioned, he'd had his stake at the ready and Zim had been on the receiving end of it.

"So, what've you been up to since we last saw each other?" Zim wondered absently, back in his semi-calm mood from earlier. Then he buried his nose in the crook of Dib's neck. Crap. Crap! Not good! Dib could already feel his heart starting to speed up from the unwanted contact, probably making Zim hungrier, and hearing the vampire taking in his scent was not helping him calm down. Feeling deathly cold flesh sliding over his own, warmer skin was. . .

_Freaking distract him already!_ "Uh, not much, just tracking you down. How's Gir?"

Zim snorted, but pulled back slightly to answer. Dib let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He'd half expected Zim to skip the formalities and just sink his fangs into his neck.

"Gir is as annoying as ever, but what else is new? Serves me right for agreeing to travel with that stupid toddler zombie."

Ah, yes, Gir. Zim's assistant slash eternal pain in the butt. Dib had often known of vampires traveling with zombies as their 'minions', it was just kind of how things worked, but he'd never heard of any vampire teaming up with a zombie as. . . strange. . . as Gir. Silver hair, pale blue eyes, and skin that had decayed to a stomach-churning grayish color all added up to an acceptable zombie appearance, but the considerable youth of the corpse added up with his reluctance to hurt anyone and general insanity meant that Gir had been on his own until he bumped into Zim. Why Zim would put up with him was beyond Dib. Even though he got along well enough with the little zombie, much better than he got along with his master in fact, Dib couldn't imagine actually _living_ with him. He'd probably kill himself after a few days.

Dib noticed Zim starting to slip back down to his throat so he hurriedly continued the 'conversation' they were having. If he could just hold out until Zim was distracted enough that he could break free. . .

"Where _is_ Gir? Didn't see him around or anything. . ." Dib accompanied the statement with a nervous chuckle. Zim accompanied his with an annoyed sigh, pulling back and holding Dib at arms length. Much as he hated to say it, Dib had to admit this felt kind of. . . intimate. Zim caging him in with his arms, holding his wrists, staring at him with those weirdly intense eyes of his.

"He's off with Mimi. You know, Tak's zombie. Not _my_ idea of course. . . Gir invited her along."

"And what Gir wants, Gir gets," Dib said, laughing softly. Zim grinned back, somewhat sheepish.

"Pretty much. Thank Irk he usually just wants tacos."

"Yeah," Dib and Zim looked at each other, smiling softly. Then Dib remembered who he was talking to and the absent friendship of the moment drained from the air between them. This was Zim. _Zim_. The vampire who was currently trying to kill him. Yeah, _that_ guy. That being said, Dib could feel the grip on his wrists loosening slightly, the pressure diminishing as Zim stopped focusing. Dib took a deep breath. . .

. . .and twisted, yanking his wrists free and dropping to the floor. He rolled, ignoring Zim's shout of surprise, and grabbed for his stake. If he could get it while Zim was still distracted, he could-

Zim's combat boot landed on his wrist, rough sole digging into his skin. Dib gritted his teeth and refused to acknowledge the pain. He wasn't going to give Zim the satisfaction.

"Well_ you're_ putting up quite the fight, stinkbeast. It would be almost admirable if you weren't a filthy _hyuman_," Dib glared up at the vampire pinning him down, tugging at his wrist. It didn't budge. Dib hadn't expected it to.

Neither was he expecting it when Zim yanked him up by the collar of his shirt, holding him so their noses almost touched. "Don't try that again, or I swear I'll _kill_ you," he growled. Psycho Zim was back, and Dib was probably a moron for saying what he said next.

"You're planning on killing me anyway, so I don't exactly have much to lose. Or were you just feeling snacky earlier?" The sarcasm was evident and _not_ appreciated.

Zim's eyes narrowed. Ooh, he was _pissed_. "Maybe I'm feeling 'snacky' _now_. Or do you just want to die that much that you'd actually provoke me into doing it?"

Dib sucked in a breath to say sorry, but Zim shoved him, _hard_, and he went tumbling backwards over the sheet-covered couch. He landed with a thud, sending up a thick cloud of dirt, feeling himself choke on it. His hands slid over the sheets as he tried to push himself up, getting no grip on the slick layers of dust.

Then Zim was on top of him, growling deep in his throat. Dib froze, looking up, seeing the vampire's murderous expression. He scrambled for an apology.

"Sor-"

Too late. Zim was at his throat, inhaling the scent of Dib's blood. Dib struggled, trying to get away, but then Zim's fingers were digging into Dib's shoulders, holding him down. "Quit squirming," Zim spat, lips moving over Dib's skin. He nosed under the high collar of Dib's trench coat. Oh, God, Zim was really going to bite him. He actually was. This was _happening_. Zim was lapping at his throat, searching for a good spot and tasting Dib's skin. Ah, frick-

Dib flinched as Zim nuzzled into the hollow between his shoulder and neck, the place Dib was so desperately trying to shrug his shoulders up to hide. The vampire was slowing down, hesitating over a single spot, and Dib fought to get away. He knew what was coming next, and there it was, sharp enamel on skin, scraping shallow cuts and then-

_Flirk_, that frickin' _hurts. _Dib's hands clenched on the fabric beneath him and he bit his lip to keep from crying out, tasting blood and barely registering the irony. Zim's fangs had finally broken skin, ripping through and making Dib's blood spill from the wound. Why _anyone_ thought that this was romantic, Dib had no idea. He was blinking tears out of his eyes and he felt like someone had stabbed him in the throat. Oh, wait, someone _had._ _And getting stabbed in the throat hurts._

Dib sucked in a breath, feeling quick, sharp pulls at his neck as his blood was pulled forcefully into Zim's mouth. He could hear the vampire's gulps echoing in his ears, and as dark spots danced at the corners of his vision he wished Zim would slow the flirk down. Dib's head was swimming. His mind was starting to drift. He thought he heard himself telling Zim to stop, over and over again, but it was distant and fuzzy in his ears. The only thing he could hear clearly was the sound of Zim's repeated swallows.

_When did it get so dark in here?_ Dib wondered absently. _Maybe that's just me. . . oh well, at least I've finally gone numb. . . ow! Oh, flirk, that hurts. . ._ Zim had dug his fangs in deeper, seemingly still hungry. _How much can that vampire _drink_, anyway? You'd think he'd be done by now. . ._

Dib was slumping against the couch now, swallowed up by dizziness and blood loss. He couldn't remember trying to pull Zim away, but the fact that his fingers were tangled limply in Zim's hair would seem to support that assumption. When was the stupid fangboy going to _stop_? Dib felt he was about to pass ou. . .

* * *

. . .Dib woke with a start, trying and failing to bolt upright. The second his head came up black spots ate up his vision and he went right back down again. The first thing he thought was that there was too much dust. The next thing was a string of mental curses. The right side of his neck ached with the stiff burn of sore, punctured muscle and he could feel flakes of dry blood irritating his skin.

"Zim, you jerk," he muttered.

"I didn't take _that_ much, you wimp."

Dib cracked one eye open, glaring up into the vampire's shadowy face. Apparently he was sprawled over Zim's lap. Lovely. "I can't feel my feet."

Zim shrugged. "I was hungry," he said noncommittally.

"How much, Zim?" Dib wasn't letting him off that easy. He was understandably pissed, and since Zim was out of maniac mode he could push this further than he would be able to otherwise.

"Uh. . . a pint or so?"

"Felt more like three." Dib opened both eyes and scowled. At least Zim had the decency to try to lie, although it would make Dib feel better if he seemed even slightly embarrassed. Who was he kidding, though? Zim was never embarrassed about anything, ever. Brash and to the point, that was Zim.

"Eh, whatever. You've got blood on your lip." Dib didn't register the implications of Zim's comment until the vampire's lips were hovering over his.

"Wha-" Dib began, then broke off. It's hard to talk when a vampire's trying to eat your mouth. No _way_ was Dib admitting this was a kiss. Not even when Zim pulled back and Dib tried to yank him back down again.

"Ah ah ah, Dib-smell," Zim began, pulling back with a smirk. Stupid jerk of a vampire. "You want some more of this, you stop trying to run me through with a fence post. That simple."

Dib growled under his breath. "You owe me. You just drank, like, three pints of my blood."

"Three and a half," Zim absently corrected him, slim fingers gently toying with Dib's dark hair. "Give me a break, it's been months."

Dib could feel a headache starting up already as he pushed his annoyance down. Today had already proven that getting mad at Zim didn't get you anywhere at all. "Three and a half. . . no wonder I can't move. . ." He muttered. Zim cheered up immensely.

"You can't move?" He asked with a mischievous gleam in his mismatched eyes and a smile that was worthy of his fangs. _Crud._

Dib drew breath to speak. "Zim, don't you dare-"

Too late. Zim had picked him up and was unceremoniously dumping him back on the couch. Dib had time to notice that both his and Zim's jackets were missing before Zim flopped down on top of him, wrapping his arms around Dib's waist and snuggling up against his chest. Dib blew out a loud, annoyed sigh, bringing his left hand down to cradle the back of Zim's head.

"I don't suppose we're going to be kissing or anything. . ." He muttered ruefully. He could feel Zim's cold breath through his tee shirt as the vampire replied.

"I won, food-beast, so I get to be happy and you have to deal with it. If you win, then we can 'kiss' or whatever it is you humans do."

Dib frowned. "If I win, you'll be dead."

"Exactly. Now go to sleep."

Dib opened his mouth to protest, but yawned instead. To flirk with stupid vampire powers of suggestion. He was well aware that when he woke up, Zim would be long gone and Dib would have to spend the next few months tracking him down again. Lather, rinse, repeat. That was their relationship in a nutshell.

Sill, as Dib drifted off, he couldn't help but hope this would be the time he woke up and Zim would still be there. . .

* * *

**BVQA:** Hey, here's a challenge for you people! Write a vampire AU, a _real_ AU, where it's actually an alternate universe and the characters haven't just been bitten. Feel free to use my vampire Zim's appearance, if you want. Just get out there and infect some people!

There'll be another installment at some point in the near future. Stay tuned.


	2. Chapter 2

**BVQA:** I actually have nothing to say for this chapter, other than the fact that it sprung from a conversation I had with aforementioned ZADR fan, ZADRgir55. I'm caught between wanting to say, "pay it no mind," and wanting to say "heck _yeah_ I just wrote this!"

Also, school's starting back up– boo– and updates could get spotty. I apologize in advance, but would also like to mention that I don't typically update this fast _anyway_. . .

* * *

Dib stood on the front steps of the old, dilapidated mansion, trying to decide whether or not he actually wanted to cross the threshold. While it wasn't entirely pleasant outside at the moment- it never was in this town- he was predicting a much more hostile atmosphere inside. Unlike the weatherman, he was usually reliable when it came to this particular house and this particular vampire.

Dib lifted a hand and traced it over the worn paint on the door, fingers catching slightly over the occasional rough, bare patch of wood. Dib sighed heavily and dropped his arm so that the tips of his fingers barely brushed the frigid metal of the door handle.

_You're not considering this._ He told himself sternly. _You are _not_ considering this._

And yet, he was remembering a certain conversation he and Zim had had several days prior. Involuntarily, of course, as he was doing his very best to convince himself.

As per the norm, Zim had been happily sprawled out on the floor with Dib, significantly less happily, on his lap with a couple of puncture marks on his jugular vein. That kind of scenario had become so familiar to Dib that the background had eventually blurred in his mind, but he vaguely recalled a defunct, crumbling high school. Or a dark alley plastered with band posters. Whichever it was, Dib had been slightly kooky with blood loss and Zim had been, well, insane just like always. Dib remembered some incoherent babbling, mostly done on his part, about how frustrating it was to be unable to protect humanity from the. . . he was pretty sure he'd used the term "vampiric threat" but he couldn't be positive. Zim had replied in the drowsy, absent voice he always got when Dib was down almost four pints of blood.

"Dib, if I wasn't already full I could bite you for being so _stupid_. There'd be a lot more people dying if I didn't keep biting you. . . you and your giant head. . . urgh, I can't even think straight, what are you _on?_"

"Massive blood loss."

"Well stop taking that!"

". . .that goes against everything you just said. Zim? Hey, Zim?"

But Zim had fallen asleep out. Dib had followed a few seconds later.

And now he was here. On Zim's doorstep. Trying to decide if he actually wanted to enter. It'd been a while since Zim had last. . .eaten. . . and ever since the vampire had decided to camp out in Dib's hometown he'd gotten used to the amount of time Zim tolerated between feedings. If it was gonna happen, it would be today.

Now he just needed to figure out if he was actually going through with this.

_This is insane._ Half of him said. The other half said, _he hasn't killed you yet, you're already here, and you'll be saving lives._

Dib growled under his breath and opened the door. He knew for a fact he was going to regret this. . .

The inside of the mansion was dark, as per usual, and Dib cursed the whole 'vampires hate sunlight' thing under his breath as he groped around for a light switch. When he finally found one, he made the unpleasant discovery that there were no lightbulbs in the freaking sockets. It was the middle of the night! Zim could at least have the common curtsy to have some lighting installed, considering that his only regular visitor was, in fact, human.

"Zim? Hey, Zim? Where are you, you fanged freak of nature?"

No answer.

Dib growled, considered turning back, and then stalked forwards into the blackness. Almost immediately, he kicked over something about knee-high that bounced over the ground with a clink, rolling to rest against several other similarly sized objects. Dib frowned and bent, scooping up one of the. . . things.

"A. . . margarita in a can? What?" He picked up another, then another. "Beer? Wine? What is this? Did some college kids break in here and throw a party?" Then another, more important thought. "Crap! Did Zim freaking kill them?!"

Dib jumped to his feet and spun around, ready to see dead bodies scatted about in the eyes-barely-even-adjusted-to darkness. Instead he caught sight of a pale-skinned teenager reclining on the floor with an excessively happy smile on his excessively fanged face.

"Zim. . ." Dib whispered hesitantly, moving closer with extreme caution. The vampire was completely still. . . almost as if he were dead. Dib leaned over him, brushing a strand of dark hair out of Zim's eyes. He wasn't breathing, but that was normal. . .

Then Zim's head jerked under Dib's fingers and his mismatched eyes slid open, cloudy and unfocused. Dib jumped in surprise, then clamped down on the instinct telling him to run. He was _not_ scared of Zim, not in the slightest. And when he yanked his hand away from Zim's face it was just. . . _caution_ that it was trembling from. After all, everything in this room was pointing towards Zim having just done a bit of serial killing, right down to the loopy smile on his face. In Dib's experience, Zim only got this happy after someone was wandering around with a punctured jugular, and he hadn't been known to leave anyone other than Dib alive after he'd gotten his fangs into them.

"Yo! Zim! You awake, fang boy?" Dib called, trying to snap the vampire out of whatever daze he was in. It worked- the smile slipped away and Zim tilted his chin up slightly as he struggled to focus on Dib's face.

"Oh! Hi Dib! When did you get here?" Dib blinked, confused. That was _definitely_ not Zim's normal tone of voice. It was lilting, high-pitched, and kind of. . ._ wobbly_, in a weird way.

"Zim. . ?" Dib asked again, drawing back slightly, less sure of the answer this time.

"Mmm-hmm. Oooh, what's that thing you always say after I eat? It's. . . eh. . ." Zim trailed off, confusion etched on his features, then giggled and continued happily when he came across the right words. "Oh yeah, 'I can't feel my feet!'" Zim let out a breathy chuckle, then went back to staring absently at the ceiling.

Dib's node wrinkled as he finally placed the smell coming off of Zim's breath; alcohol. Lots and _lots_ of alcohol. _Oh my God._ Dib thought, eyes widening. _He's freaking drunk_.

Then, as an archenemy usually did when finding his enemy in a moment of weakness, his thoughts strayed to how he could twist this situation to his advantage. Almost without him thinking about it, his fingers slowly slipped to rest on the holster of his stake, toying with the thick, braided binding.

And then he was slamming into something hard, sliding to rest against the floor with his eyes tearing up from the stinging in his back and side. He blinked away the blur and realized, rather belatedly, that he was now about fifty feet away from Zim, at the very end of a corridor leading off from the entryway. Dib straightened up, rather painfully, and started making his way back over the worn carpet that eventually gave way to equally worn floorboards.

_Did he just. . . toss me all the way over here? I mean, Zim's strong and all, but he's never thrown me _that_ far before. . ._

Zim just lay there, blowing bubbles out of his own spit and humming happily to himself.

"Uh. . . Zim, did you just. . ." Urgh, it hurt to _breathe_. Zim seemed to get the gist of what Dib was saying though, because he popped the latest bubble and replied in a roundabout sort of way.

"Sorry about that, Dibbers. . . Dibberino. . . Dee-dee. . . I just kinda like my chest un-pin-cushioned. . . heheh, 'cushion'. . . that's a funny word! Shh. . . shh. . . cushh. . ."

Realizing that any moment Zim was about to go back to blowing spit bubbles, Dib swung the conversation back on track as he flopped down, cross-legged, next to Zim. His ribs felt like they might be shifting back into place by now. . .

"So do you, like. . . hold back when you're usually fighting with me?"

"Mebbe a li'l bit. Jus' a li'l." The idea terrified Dib. Zim was already too much for him to handle, if he was actually more powerful than he was letting on there was no _way_ Dib was going to be able to take him down as things stood. It looked like plan follow-Zim-until-he-slips-up was back in place over plan stake-Zim-when-he's-drunk, if only because apparently he was even _more_ dangerous now.

Speaking of which. "Okay, the beer and wine I understand. Kind of. But. . . what's with the margaritas in a can?"

Zim rolled his eyes, as well as his entire head. He had trouble refocusing on Dib afterwards and had to blow his shock of electric green hair out of his eyes. "They're not _margaritas_ in a can. They're _parties_ in a can." And so saying, Zim started trying to make a snow angel out of the landscape of black his jacket made underneath him. Dib wondered when exactly he'd taken it off- this house was by no means warm- then cut the wondering in favor of gratitude that he hadn't taken off any _other_ articles of clothing. Like his pants.

"_Parties_ in a can? Wha. . . even if that _was_ true, why would you _drink_ that? You're so drunk you look about ready to. . . to. . ." Dib couldn't even think of a scenario stupid enough for how drunk Zim was.

"Vampires don't _get_ drunk, Dib. Duh." Zim had given up on his angel and was staring at his feet like he'd never seen them before in his life.

_Oooh, look, he's only wearing one shoe._ "Zim, who the flirk told you that vampires can't get drunk?"

"Th. . . the purple elephant. . ." Zim gestured to the general area off of his left side, then reached out with both hands to try to get to his feet. When he couldn't reach without sitting up- something that was beyond his power at this point- he dropped his arms to the floor before picking them up and trying again.

"And. . . there was a purple elephant in the room talking to you. . . _before_ you drank enough alcohol to kill a water buffalo? Zim, when you're sober, I'm taking you in for testing because either you were already high or you're just plain _crazy._"

"My feet don't match." Zim muttered despondently. He was still trying to grab his foot, so Dib growled under his breath and reluctantly wrapped his hand around Zim's ankle. He lifted it up into the range of Zim's hand and Zim made a happy, babylike noise before he began hugging his knee.

"You look like a three-year old." Dib remarked. Zim either didn't hear him or was too preoccupied with his foot to notice. "Still. . . I can't really leave you here. . ." Dib trailed off. He could, in fact, leave Zim right here, but the fact of the matter was that with the door unlocked and bottles of booze tossed around the room like confetti the place was going to attract teenagers like flies to roadkill. He wasn't so much worried about Zim as he was worried that Zim would decide he was hungry. . .

Flirk, he shouldn't have to be _dealing_ with this! This was what a vampire's zombie servants were for, helping to assist their master when he was weakened in any way. Vampire slayers weren't supposed to have to be the designated drivers!

Oh, God, that reminded him. . . "Zim, where's Gir and Mimi?"

Zim stopped trying to cram his foot in his mouth for a moment as he replied, still in that lilting tone. "I dunno. Maybe they're on a date? They should be on a date. Are we on a date? We should kiss."

Dib leapt to his feet and smiled pleasantly, changing the subject while feeling a mad heat rising to his cheeks. _If you say yes now, then it's your fault. Every other time he's kissed you it's been the blood loss, but now you're fine and he's fall-down drunk. That's just wrong, no matter how you look at it. Even if you. . . really don't want to look at it that closely. . ._

"You know what Zim? You're going to have a killer headache in the morning, so I think you should go up to your room now, okay?"

"But I don' wanna. . ." Zim whined, big, mismatched eyes pouting up at Dib. Jesus, he _was_ three.

"Zim, you gotta go to sleep now alright?"

Zim turned his nose up and looked away from Dib, doing his best to radiate contempt while gnawing absently on his big toe. "I'm not listnin to you. Th' pink elephant says you. . . you're a bad infl. . . influew. . . influence."

"I thought the elephant was purple."

Zim rolled his eyes. Dib barely caught it through the dark curtain of hair that had flopped back over his eyes, and had to fight the urge to brush it away. "_No,_ that one's pink. Th' one over yer head is purple."

Dib actually looked up to check before confirming to himself, yep, no flying purple elephants.

"Come _on_, Zim! You're going to be exhausted in the morning, in a crappy mood, and you'll have a migraine the size of freaking _Texas_. The _least_ you can do is _go to sleep_."

"You're not my mother. You can't tell me what to do."

_Your mother's probably been dead for hundreds of years,_ Dib thought. Then, _well, when in Rome. . ._

"Actually, Zim, I _am_ your mother. I'm going to go set up your bed, then you're going to climb up those stairs and get into it or. . . or you're _grounded_, young man! Do you _hear_ me?"

"Yes mom. . ." Zim muttered.

Dib nodded in satisfaction, tried not to burst into laughter, and swept up the stairs.

His only mistake was leaving Zim alone.

"Zim? Look, I made your bed- I don't want to _know_ why your pillow was on the roof- and. . . Zim? Zim?"

The door was open.

Zim was gone.


End file.
